


Near Missings

by an_aphorism



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Worship, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Sex, Fluff, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Love Confession, M/M, Pet Names, Praise Kink, emphasis on the comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21930709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_aphorism/pseuds/an_aphorism
Summary: Shiro looks haunted. “We saw you fall— thought— I thought—"He chokes and Keith is quick to fold his hands around Shiro’s neck and draw him in. “Shh, I’m okay. I’m okay."
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 47
Kudos: 392





	Near Missings

The supposedly simple in and out mission goes wrong from the drop. It starts with the Blades ship navigation malfunctioning, followed by the weather at the landing site deteriorating in a near crash landing. To top the cake, Keith quickly discovers their mission information has been compromised. He is therefore captured, chained, and lightly beaten. He's still dangerous after that, so escapes, but has to wear the cuffs and neck collar out.

When Keith’s arrested by raiders on the way back to the ship, he’s almost not surprised. He makes the call for backup and/or retrieval just before his helmet is torn once again off him.

He fights the raiders three on one, with his Galra strength. He fights them with one eye on getting back to his helmet and communicator, conscious of his injured leg and his overall exhaustion.

Later he will blame the piling up distractions and horrendously long day for why Keith overlooks the forth person in the room, a slender and previously cowering alien. Usually he could be more cautious, but as it is he doesn’t even think about it when he puts his back to the alien. The alien is small and looks just as beaten down as Keith.

So it is that Keith blocks a attack, but feels the whoosh of air from behind him when it’s far too late. The alien. A swinging sword appears at his peripheral, coming unstoppable for his throat.

Keith lets out a grunt as the blade, instead of shearing right through the delicate skin of his throat, collides with the metal collar. A horrendous sheering sound hits his ears as it cuts into the metal. The impact sends Keith sprawling.

He lands hard behind a cropping of rocks, the shock of his near demise rolling through him. He almost can't believe it. Has it ever been that close?

He has a vision of his friends getting the news, how their faces would crumple. He sees how Shiro would just collapse under the weight of that, a cruel irony to lose Keith to a peacetime Blades mission after everything they’d been though.

He sees…

 _Red_.

When the rescue team finally arrives, Keith is lying in the middle of bodies, covered in dirt and blood, near feral. The lead is a Galra Keith recognizes, and it calms him down from the killing edge. He staggers, denying assistance, into the ship. Someone behind him comments on his ruined helmet as they scoop it up.

##

Much of the flight back Keith doesn’t remember. He’s bleeding across his chest and from a hairline slice the blade grazed across his neck. His fingers are bloodied and his ankle, the medic informs him, is sprained.

Miraculously though, all the injuries are minor. He’ll be benched for a few days, but otherwise is wholly intact.

When the metal cuffs and collar are prized off him, Keith shuts his eyes and actively does not think about the close call.

##

What seems like a moment later he’s blinking awake, groggy from the accidental nap. Some time has gone by, the sound of the ships engines are gone.

Keith blinks his eyes open to find himself not in the medical bed, but in his own back at the Garrison. The room has been dimmed. In the sheets beside his hand is the metal collar with the ugly, deep gash.

Had he been clutching it? Keith shudders.

From the other room comes a sound.

Keith’s instincts spike, but then the sound of footsteps returning are ones Keith’s long familiar with.

 _Shiro_.

The man comes in with a glass of water and a sandwich. He stops dead upon seeing Keith awake.

“Keith!” Shiro nearly drops the food, fumbling it quickly onto the bedside table before pouring himself over the bed. Before Keith can even make heads or tails of the man’s strange, frantic energy, Shiro is enveloping Keith in his arms.

“‘ey,” Keith says into his shoulder, gingerly bringing his own hands up.

There’s a heave of Shiro’s shoulders then, and a choked sound presses into his throat. It raises the hairs on the back of Keith’s neck.

“Fuck,” Shiro’s voice is a ruin, and it strikes Keith. “Fuck I thought— and I just— just— couldn’t—“ the man takes a horrible gasping breath.

“Hey, woah, Shiro,” Keith smoothes a hand down his back. “It’s okay.”

There’s a tremor then from Shiro’s chest, and when he pulls back Keith can see his eyes are wet. He’s crying. “No, no it’s not. I saw them, saw—“ he turns then to look at the metal collar as though it were a snake in the bed.

Several things click together in Keith’s head. The mission, his desperate fighting in the field, that moment of wild luck in which the blade instead of biting into his throat hit the metal collar…

And his helmet, lying across the field in perfect position to capture it all. It could have easily been streamed to the rescue team.

“All that we got on the feed was the swing. They’d destroyed your helmet after that,” the words are falling out of Shiro’s mouth. He looks haunted. “We saw you fall— thought— I thought—“

He chokes and Keith is quick to fold his hands around Shiro’s neck and draw him in. “Shh, I’m okay. I’m okay. It was just the force of it.”

The angle is awkward, but Keith can’t think of parting them. Shiro’s hands dig into his shirt and Keith holds him equally as fierce.

Slowly, descendingly, they end up curled into each other lying on the bed. Keith can still feel Shiro’s shuddering, and the tears that are smearing into his skin. They don’t slow and Keith doesn’t try to rush him. He aches with something he can’t put into words. It had been a shock to come so close to death, but he can’t imagine the horror of actually believing—

Or he _can_. He _has_. He’s lost Shiro twice, only to miraculously regain him. He’d had to live desperately with the belief that Shiro was alive both times, but he knows that sickening desolation. It had crept into him on the worse nights, settling down into his belly like a black hole. He never wanted Shiro to know how that felt. Never wanted… this.

“I’m sorry,” Keith’s own voice is strange. “I know, and I’m sorry— I never wanted—“

Shiro pulls back then just to lean his forehead against Keith’s. His hands keep a tight hold of Keith’s middle. “Don’t be sorry. This was… so much less than what you...”

It’s amazing even without saying it that Shiro gets it. Shiro is right here with him, always on the same page.

“Doesn’t mean today wasn’t hard. I know.”

“I hate that you know,” Shiro says. “I hate that I put you through this. _Twice_.”

“Wasn’t your fault.”

Shiro shakes his head a little. A hand slides up and tucks Keith’s hair behind one ear. His fingers stop to rest there, delicate. “I was so afraid. Pidge got the footage and I— it was a while before they sent word back that you were okay.”

“I’m okay,” Keith says steadily even if he doesn’t feel it. He’s overly warm and his heart is battering strangely.

“All I could think when I saw you lying there was everything I'd left undone. I had thought with the war done we’d have time. I’d have time to…” there’s a hot puff of air between them.

“Shiro,” Keith says softly.

Shiro pulls back just a smidge, and his thumb swipes down over Keith’s cheekbone. His expression is painfully open, eyes reddened with tears. “I couldn’t do this, any of this, without you.”

The sincerity of it makes Keith’s belly swoop. He feels his own eyes burn and he blinks rapidly to contain it.

“You said the words to me once at the clone facility. I was afraid of them then, of what I wanted them to mean,” Shiro’s thumb traces down to the edge of Keith’s mouth, overly familiar and terrifyingly intimate. Keith doesn’t even think he’s breathing, his eyes stuck on Shiro’s dark ones. “I thought the worst thing to happen would be your rejection, a straining of our friendship. But I can’t—“ there’s another difficult breath, “I can’t let you go another moment not knowing, I can’t go another moment without saying it. A worse thing would be for you to go not knowing that someone loves you, that I love you. That I’m in love with you.”

The words are impossible. Keith hears them ringing in his ears. He doesn’t know what his face is doing, but Shiro smiles at him tenderly in return. His finger draws careful circles across Keith’s cheek and jaw.

Keith opens his mouth and then closes it. Has he been concussed?

“You…?”

“Yeah,” Shiro says, then again those words come spilling from his mouth with a certainty that has Keith shaken. “I love you.”

There’s a lump in Keith’s throat, and then the burning of his eyes does finally culminate in tears. He tries to reach up to dash them away, but Shiro is already there, dotingly thumbing them off his cheek. It’s this careful care that drags Keith out of his tongue-tied stupor.

“I love you too,” Keith says, and then helplessly, “I’m in love with you.”

Shiro’s smile then is striking. It’s like looking into the sun, and Keith can’t help how his own shaking fingers twine around Shiro’s neck and pull him in.

The first kiss is cautious, clumsy, and it leaves Keith’s lips tasting of salt. His heart flips in his chest as Shiro pulls him back in for another.

This one is more sure, but still gentle. It’s so wonderful Keith almost can’t believe it’s happening.

Shiro, kissing him.

 _Kissing him_.

“Stars,” Shiro says the word against his lips. “I should have done that ages ago.”

Keith hums, drugged on the kisses Shiro keeps dropping onto his mouth. “I should have told you when you cut down Sendak,” he kisses Keith. “I should have told you after your Blades trials,” another kiss. “I should have told you the moment I awoke back on earth in your cabin bed.”

“ _Shiro_ ,” it’s part whine, part gasp. Shiro tastes it on him.

“Yeah, baby?”

The term of endearment throws Keith for another loop. It’s all too much, but he never wants it to stop. He wants to gorge himself sick on this outpouring of Shiro’s love. Overwhelmed, he tilts his face to hide and gets the next kiss on his cheek. Another follows down his jaw, then there’s a pause.

Keith’s eyes are closed, but he opens them when he feels a touch at his neck. Shiro’s eyes have dropped down, and his expression looks strained again.

“What?” Keith says.

Shiro’s fingers trace across his throat in a straight line. The skin feels tender, and Keith knows it must be bruised. The hit he took must have left a mark where the collar sat.

“I was so afraid,” Shiro says. His fingers map out the damaged skin, eyes stuck there.

Keith reaches up and captures Shiro’s hand, bringing it instead down to his chest, right over his heart. “I’m okay,” he says.

The kiss that comes next isn’t soft at all. It’s something biting and electric, full of fear and desperation. Shiro takes his mouth and Keith doesn’t fight him, he just opens.

They kiss in a hot slide of tongues and teeth. Keith can still taste the salt of their tears, and he doesn’t try to run from it. They’ve always been this, inches from glory or ruin, walking a fine line while they tried to save and save and save. The risks have always been there, but Keith feels it now like he never has before.

Shiro rolls on top of him, still kissing, and Keith welcomes it. The heat and weight of the man is a balm. The kissing between them begins to slide into something more demanding.

“Keith, I—“

Keith nips his lower lip. “Yeah,” he says.

Shiro’s hands have moved down his body and are holding strident at his waist. Keith can feel the tension rising, and he wants it. More. Everything. He can feel his bruised throat now with every swallow, and it’s a constant reminder of his own ticking clock. The war may be over, but they still live dangerous lives. Any moment could be their last.

Keith feels the weight of that, the same one that carried Shiro to his confession.

_A worse thing would be for you to go not knowing that someone loves you, that I love you._

It’s a stinging truth that Keith suddenly can’t stand to know. He wants years with this man, decades. He wants wrinkles and anniversaries and bickering over dinner options. He wants a marriage, a partnership, a life.

He wants to be so close, so wrapped up in Shiro that they both forget they are separate beings. He wants it with a greed he can barely speak.

His hands rake down Shiro’s back and to the hem of his shirt. “I want you,” he says, “I need you,” his hands slip under the fabric to touch Shiro’s skin. Keith’s nerves are electric at his own daring, but he’s not afraid, not anymore. “Touch me,” he says, low, “please, I need—“ his tongue fumbles then over the largeness of the thing swelling in his chest. His fingernails scrape ineffectually, and he can’t calm down, “Shiro,” he says, gulping for air, “ _Shiro_.”

Heavy hands cup his face. Shiro’s propped above him, blocking out everything else. “Okay,” he says staring into Keith’s eyes. “But let me, okay?” He touches Keith’s hairline and then across his cheek to his nose.

Keith can’t know the full breadth of that request, but he doesn’t need to. It’s Shiro, and Keith will always be ready to give himself over to this man. He trusts him implicitly. If anyone knows how to take the reins and shoulder the terrifying feeling inside Keith, it’s him.

“Okay,” he says.

After that, Shiro gets to work. He sits up and lifts his own shirt off, and then puts his hands on the hem of Keith’s. At a nod, Shiro tugs it up.

“Arms up sweetheart,” he says.

Keith can feel the bloom of a blush across his whole body. When he lies back down Shiro tosses his shirt away, and comes back to prop himself above Keith.

“I don’t want to rush this,” Shiro says, drawing his fingers in circles on Keith’s shoulder. “Will you be patient with me?”

Keith would give him anything. He nods.

Shiro takes his time.

It’s not a massage, but more like a full body mapping. Shiro touches him gently, from his nape down to the sleep shorts. He follows every slope of muscle and bone, traces old scars and freckles. He spends an exorbitant amount of time around the edges of the fresh wounds. Keith can see now that they’ve been cleaned they’re little more than kitten scratches, but Shiro still dedicates himself to them. His eyes flicker up to Keith’s as he does so, the seconds that roll by become charged with indescribable meaning.

Shiro touches him, soft in some places and firm in others. It’s not even sexual, but it disarms Keith like nothing else ever has. Beneath Shiro’s fingers, Keith feels all his nerve endings come alive. As he gets to the band of Keith’s shorts, Keith lifts his hips eagerly.

Shiro laughs, low and sweet and pulls the clothing down.

Keith’s only a little hard with how confusing and strange the night has been. He has a moment of embarrassment to be displayed to Shiro, his complete nudity laid out on the bed, but Shiro looks at him the same as always. Soft. Fond. 

He continues his ministrations, avoiding touching between Keith’s legs.

It becomes, truly then, a test of patience. The feeling in Keith once more begins to rise with urgency. Shiro’s hands on him are wonderful, but they’re not enough. He needs to be closer to Shiro, to have the man wrapped up in him, completely surrounding.

But Shiro isn’t there yet. His hands move over Keith’s hips and thighs worshipfully. He scoots down to dedicate himself to Keith’s knees and shins. Keith’s ankle is lightly braced and wrapped and when Shiro gets there he hunches to press a kiss just above the bandaging.

The thing in Keith twists, painful and huge. He feels himself cracking apart or pulling together. He can’t tell which is worse. He can’t tell if it will be his revelation or his reckoning.

Shiro spends time next on his feet, the toes and soles and then the back where his achilles is. There are bruises and minor nicks from the fighting, each of them gets Shiro’s attentions. It's wondrous and too much and not enough.

When Keith can’t take it anymore, he calls for Shiro, voice strained. Keith wants to keep being patient, but there’s so much space still between them and every touch is making his nerves sing. Quickly he's being pushed to the edges of what he can stand. He needs—

Shiro knows.

The man rises up then, dropping kisses to Keith’s belly, over his heart, and at the juncture of neck and shoulder. Keith’s hand wrap around the man’s neck when he gets close enough, and Keith pulls him down to his lips.

He tries then to say every wordless thing rattling around inside him with action. Into the kiss Keith pours his love, his need, and his fear. He kisses Shiro as if it was the first and the last, as if either of them were but moments from slipping away.

“Starlight,” Shiro says when they break for air.

Keith makes a caught sound. His body is once again quivering. He doesn't understand what's happening.

“Okay,” Shiro says. “Thank you for being so patient for me. You were so, so good.”

Nothing about this is violent, but Keith experiences it as if it was. The praise slides right up under his guards and tears into him. He can only gasp and shut his eyes for a moment against it.

“Baby, baby I got you,” Shiro says with infinite softness.

A sob heaves itself out of Keith’s chest when he opens his eyes.

Shiro lets his weight press back down on top of Keith. They’re both hard, but it’s almost secondary to whatever thing is pulverizing Keith's chest. Shiro makes a crooning, gentle sound and pets his hair. 

“I almost died,” Keith says, words like a wound.

Shiro’s arms shift to wrap under and around him then, squeezing tight. “I know,” he whispers into Keith’s neck, voice wavering. “I know, but you didn’t. You were strong.”

“I was lucky,” Keith says. It hurts to know. “The collar—“

“You were lucky and you were strong and you came back to us. To me.”

“Yeah.”

“And it is enough,” Shiro says.

It’s like he’s plucked Keith’s fears right out of his head. He shakes his head where it’s buried in Shiro’s shoulder. “I didn’t do anything, I just— just got lucky.”

“You called for backup, you survived. Lucky or not.”

It’s difficult to take in. Keith’s used to relying on skill and hard work. He can take injuries that are his own doing, injuries that come from his bodily fatigue and technique slipping. He doesn’t know what to do with luck.

“Our lives are dangerous, but even when it’s hard you come back. I believe in that. I believe in you.”

“Shiro,” he says through tears.

“I know sweetheart.”

Shiro holds him, hands moving to rub Keith’s back as his crying settles down. Eventually Keith comes back to himself a little. He feels fragile.

“I want,” Keith runs a hand up Shiro’s spine. He likes how solid Shiro is, how warm. “I want to stop thinking, just for tonight.”

Shiro moves out from Keith’s neck to look at him. Carefully he wipes the tears once more off Keith’s face. “What do you want?”

“I want to feel close to you.”

Shiro presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Would it be okay like this? I don’t want to complicate it right now.”

To illustrate Shiro moves just slightly on top of him. The skin on skin sensation soothes some of Keith’s spiky edges. He wants Shiro inside him, but he also can hear what Shiro is saying. He doesn’t want to go through the prep either, he just needs Shiro right here, like this.

“Yeah,” Keith says. “Just… be with me.”

“I’m with you,” Shiro vows.

The kiss that follows is hotter than any of the rest. Shiro takes his mission seriously, pressing Keith down into the sheets and licking into his mouth. Keith doesn't hesitate to give himself over to it.

It’s a long kiss, one that folds into the next. Shiro’s weight is heavy on him, beginning to roll as they clutch at each other. Keith widens his legs unconsciously, slotting Shiro better to him. There’s so much heat, and Keith wants to stoke it further. He wants Shiro to burn him right down to his core. He wants him to burn out everything that’s made Keith afraid.

“You’re so sweet,” Shiro says when they finally break for air.

The heat across Keith’s cheeks is a blaze. He can’t find anything to say.

“I’ve wanted this so long. Watched you for years grow into such an amazing man. Passionate, strong, fierce,” Shiro marks the last three words with a kiss each.

Keith’s legs come up around Shiro’s hips. He wants to be bared, but he can’t help the lick of embarrassment at it. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined Shiro atop him, murmuring sweetness into his skin.

“I’m going to make you come,” Shiro says then, moving himself against Keith with real rhythm for the first time. “Take away your thoughts for the night, and then I want to hold you as we fall asleep. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith moans it, their cocks sliding together smoothly at the first blurt of wetness. Shiro reaches down and smears it over both of them.

“Good,” His fingers circle over the heads of their cocks, making the next push tight. “You’re so wet already.”

Keith knows he leaks a lot. He can’t even imagine how it is now as everything strikes his nerves with relentless intensity. “ _Ah_ ,” he says, uncertain.

“I like it,” Shiro presses his nose into Keith’s cheek, affectionate. “I can’t wait to know everything about you. How you sound when I suck your cock, the taste of your spill on my tongue…”

The obscenity of it draws Keith right out of his head. He’d asked Shiro to be with him, but maybe Shiro had known better. Maybe Shiro had known all along it was Keith stuck in the spiral.

“The feel of you,” Shiro says, jerking their cocks together, “inside.”

Keith’s hips push up then, wanting. He can feel his arousal swelling, how it’s been sitting and waiting for him to give into it.

“That’s it,” Shiro says, kissing over to Keith’s ear. His voice drops lower. “Just let go love, let it all go.”

Keith cries out at that, fractured and drowning and yet safe, so safe in Shiro’s arms. Stupid tears spring to his eyes again, but this time they’re not from fear. Shiro’s name is on his lips and then he’s dragging Shiro back in to kiss. They fuck against each other, slick and sweaty and Keith feels him, so close.

“I love you,” Keith says, between kisses. “I love you, I love you—“ the words are an uncontrolled fumbling though the thickness of his throat. They sound painfully honest.

“And I love you,” Shiro says back, never losing the rhythm of their bodies. Keith can feel his end drawing near, and he fights to keep his eyes open even with Shiro so close he’s blurry. “To the ends of the galaxy, to the ends of everything. I’m yours, for however long we last.”

The kiss then is tear-stained and electric. Keith pulls and Shiro pushes, and then Keith is crying Shiro’s name into his mouth as he comes.

It’s a molten spill between them driving waves of pleasure through Keith. He clutches at Shiro tight even as the man curses and ruts harder against him.

“You’re— I can’t believe— baby— _baby_ ,” There’s no space between them to even breathe, and it’s perfect. Shiro grunts and then, as Keith is beginning to relax back down in post-orgasmic bliss, Shiro comes.

His belly is a mess, but Keith still gets something shivery down his spine at the feeling of Shiro fucking his own wetness there. It’s hot, and Keith watches the man still propped above him as he gasps through the pleasure of it.

Keith loves this man, but he could fall again just seeing him like this, unabashed and enjoying himself.

Shiro, when he collapses, moves to the side of Keith and buries his head in Keith’s neck. Keith cards his hands through the back of Shiro’s sweaty hair and just lies there, staring up at the ceiling absolutely besotted. When Shiro recovers he begins nuzzling. Keith can’t help the pleased laugh.

“Have a good time baby?”

Keith doesn't think he'll ever get over that. "Yeah," he says.

Shiro's hands find his in the sheets and twine their fingers together. It's the least of what they've done tonight, but the gesture is like a secure wrapping on his heart.

"Don't ever let me go," Keith says then.

There's a beat of silence and then a shifting. Shiro props himself up to look down at Keith. His eyes are glossy and so terribly fond. Keith never wants to look at anything else ever again. "Never," he says.

There's a certainty there that Keith recognizes. It's the one Shiro had when he told him years ago about piloting to Kerberos. It's the one he had through the war when times were tough and the odds were stacked against them. It's the certainty that means Shiro will not accept anything else. Keith's hands curl around the man, drawing him into a hug. 

"And I'll do the same," he mumbles into Shiro's skin. A kiss is pressed to his hair.

Across the bed Keith can still see the glint of the metal from the collar. He remembers grabbing it from the medic team, holding it tight to his chest. He sees it now, dented but still strong enough to retain shape. He thinks about what other things a metal like that could make.

Shiro sighs into his hair, holding him tight even as he drifts off. The tremulous thing in Keith settles completely. He feels stable again, sturdy. Perhaps more study than he has in a very long time. He closes his eyes, thinking of metal rings and Shiro. Always Shiro.

**Author's Note:**

> For @glyphhunterart on twitter, who won my fic giveaway! They wanted high emotion and tender loving with some praise kink and pet names. *throws confetti* this was such a nice change of pace!
> 
> On twitter @an_aphorism


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